At the wrap-up party, my wife gave the other couple's watch from the sponsor to her ex-boyfriend.

They held the watches and took a kissing photo.

Everyone glanced at me and asked her in bewilderment, "Ms. Cooper, did you kiss the wrong person?"

"The filming is over. What's going on?"

I smiled indifferently, saying, "They are a couple in the film. Wearing couple watches and kissing is good for generating buzz."

Terry Garcia opened the box and naturally put the watch on his wrist.

"Deborah, Mr. Howard is right. Let's put on the watches and take another photo for posting," he said.

Deborah Cooper immediately put on her watch, and the two cuddled together to take another intimate photo wearing the couple's watches.

A minute later, they tagged everyone in the crew on Twitter to celebrate the end of filming.

The whole process went smoothly, as if they were a real couple.

Others advised me worriedly, "Mr. Howard, isn't this too deliberate? What if it goes too far?"

I looked at the laughing duo and replied indifferently, "The fans ship them as a couple. They know what they're doing."

Shortly after I finished speaking, Terry delivered a piece of deboned fish to Deborah's mouth and provocatively asked me, "Mr. Howard, you don't mind, do you?"

I pointed to the photographer who was taking pictures.

"It's perfect for promoting your film."

Deborah glanced at me and then naturally opened her mouth to accept the fish.

If I wasn't mistaken, Terry had used his fork which was covered in his saliva.

In the past, I would have caused a scene over this.

The first time they fed each other on set, I dumped Terry's lunch box on his head.

Deborah smashed my food and made me apologize to Terry.

She accused me of lacking perspective and being jealous over nothing.

Coincidentally, photos of the argument were leaked by someone with ulterior motives.

The fans angrily cursed me as the vicious second male lead who was disgusting both on and off the screen.

To avoid affecting the film's popularity, I was forced to publicly apologize to Terry and treat him to a feast.

Anyone could guess that the person who leaked the photos was one of Terry's people.

But Deborah didn't believe me. She only scolded me for getting too much into character and having malicious thoughts.

After she finished scolding me, she then worked hard to coax me.

She knew my weak spots and could always coax me into continuing to love her wholeheartedly.

Even though I was used to their intimate gestures, I still felt sick at that moment.

The others stopped asking me questions and lowered their heads to eat, while secretly watching their intimate interactions.

At the end of the banquet, Terry was drunk. When he stood up, he lost his balance and fell straight into Deborah's arms.

If it weren't for everyone helping to hold him up, he would have knocked Deborah over.

I looked away, not bothering to watch this clumsy act, and went straight out.

The autumn wind was a bit chilly. I shivered and was about to hail a taxi when I was stopped by the second female lead, Tina Morris.

"Mr. Howard, aren't you waiting for Ms. Cooper?" She asked.

I looked back and saw Deborah struggling to help Terry walk out.

People nearby tried to take Terry from Deborah, but Terry waved them away.

"Who is it? Get away! Don't steal my woman!" she muttered.

People tried several times, but Terry wouldn't let anyone near him. He just hung on Deborah like a sloth.

Deborah didn't say a word, her face red from exhaustion, but she didn't let go.

"Honey, I'll take him home. Can you take a taxi by yourself?" she said to me.

"Yeah," I replied.

I didn't throw a tantrum or give her the cold shoulder.

Everyone was dumbfounded. With so many people present, why did it have to be my wife who took Terry home? And I had no objections!

They didn't know that it took just six months for me to change from a hysterical madman to the current mute.

The filming took six months.

"Mr. Howard, you're being too generous. Aren't you afraid something might happen?"

"A man and a woman alone, and they've been drinking, isn't this..."

The prelude to an affair?

I shook my head. "What is there to be afraid of? Drunken mistakes are just excuses. If Terry is really drunk, he can't do anything."

I didn't believe they were innocent. Cheating only happened zero times or countless times.

Deborah was in the middle of stuffing Terry into the car when she heard my words. Her body stiffened, but she still closed the car door and left, leaving me behind like a joke.

Before the car door closed, Terry secretly gave me the middle finger.

I knew he wasn't drunk.

He was just using drunkenness and lines from the script to assert his dominance over me.

Tina lived in the same community as us. She invited me to go back with her, but I declined.

Tina admired me, and I didn't want to develop feelings with the opposite sex that I couldn't handle.

Deborah was the complete opposite. Ever since Terry joined the crew, there had been no boundaries between them.

After going home and washing up, I felt tipsy and planned to go to bed.

My phone rang.

"Honey, how to make hangover soup? Terry is throwing up badly," she said.

Deborah was frantic on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Honey! Stop messing around, will you? Just teach me quickly so I can make it for him and come home. Otherwise, you'll be waiting for me until midnight again," she complained.

"The hangover soup you used to make for me. It's simple, right? And how do you cook the oatmeal?" She asked again.

"Just look it up online. There are tons of tutorials. Take your time to learn. I won't wait for you. I'm going to bed," I said, hanging up the phone.

I busied myself in the kitchen while she just needed to open her mouth. Of course, it was easy for her.

Fake drunkenness threw her into a panic, and here she was, in the middle of the night, acting as a caretaker for her beloved. Disgusting!

When I had gastroenteritis on set and was vomiting and having diarrhea, ending up in the hospital, she didn't worry at all.

Well, it wasn't her fault. She was busy disinfecting and bandaging Terry, who had deliberately scratched himself while on wires.

I begged her to take me to the hospital, but she said she had no time for me and fussed over Terry's hand like a mother with her son.

When I was discharged, Terry's wound had long since healed without a trace.

I must have been out of my mind to teach her how to take care of another man. This time, no one could force me to lower my head.

Her claim that she was coming home was just a lie.

I wouldn't be a lovesick fool waiting for her to come home anymore.

In the past, no matter how late it was, I would wait for Deborah to come home and cuddle up to sleep together.

Now, I slept alone in the big bed, without her crowding me to the edge or stealing the covers. I slept particularly well.

Suddenly, a loud crash woke me up.

I opened the door to find Deborah bringing Terry home.

"What are you doing in the middle of the night?" I sulked.

"Thomas Howard, what do you mean? I come home in the middle of the night, and you don't wait up or leave the lights on? Terry and I nearly tripped in the dark!" she said.

What right did she have to demand I leave the lights on for her and her ex-boyfriend?

Should I also hand them water and play music while they slept together?

"I told you I was going to bed. I thought you weren't coming back," I countered.

Deborah thought I was explaining, so her tone softened.

"Since you're awake, make some oatmeal for Terry. The one you're best at will do," she said.

I glanced at the living room, and my temples throbbed.

Their clothes and shoes were thrown carelessly on the floor, and worst of all, Terry had tossed his stinky socks next to my water glass before collapsing into sleep.

"Thomas! I've been calling you for ages. Why aren't you moving?" Deborah sulked.

"Why should I make oatmeal for him? You can take him out to eat," I replied.

"No restaurant has food as good as yours, and they're all closed anyway. Plus, he loves your oatmeal. It only takes you two minutes to make. Don't you know he's been throwing up bile? He has stomach issues," she said.

I couldn't help but laugh in anger at her nagging.

"Why should I care?" I replied.

But this explained why she had insisted on bringing breakfast to the set recently. She never got tired of oatmeal.

Turned out she was feeding her ex-boyfriend with the breakfast I made.

Unbelievable!

"Deborah, if I were you, I wouldn't have the nerve to come home, let alone say such things," I said.

"It's just something you can do in two minutes. It's easy for you," she said.

Her face turned cold, and she threw her bag at my face.

The hard metal decorations cut my face, and a sharp pain hit me. I touched my face and found it was bleeding.

Terry, who had been pretending to sleep on the sofa, jumped up and scolded me, "Thomas, is this how you usually treat Deborah?"

I couldn't be bothered to argue with them and went straight back to my room to sleep.

Deborah jogged over to stop me.

"You have to cook the oatmeal before you can sleep," she said.

For the first time, I found her so bizarre and unfamiliar.

A compromise was impossible. I pushed her aside, locked the door, and went straight to sleep.

The room had good soundproofing. Whatever they wanted to do was none of my business.

The next day, when I got up to use the bathroom, the lingering yellow filth mixed with a foul smell in the toilet made me nauseous.

There was even a puddle of water mixed with hair on the floor.

I used to worry about Deborah slipping, so every time she finished showering, I would clean up.

I took a deep breath and told myself not to get angry. Whoever made the mess should clean it up themselves.

I loved Deborah and this home. No matter how busy I was, I would always take the time to keep it clean and tidy.

But that didn't mean I would do it now, because I no longer wanted her, and I no longer wanted this home.

I had given up ever since she repeatedly ignored my advice and insisted on bringing Terry home for the night.

This mess was created deliberately by Terry and Deborah to annoy me.

They knew I had OCD and a cleanliness obsession. Just a bit of mess would upset me.

And for the sake of my peace of mind, I always endured and cleaned up.

Before Terry returned from abroad, whenever I upset Deborah, she would mess things up to punish me.

I would clean up while coaxing her, and she enjoyed it immensely. At that time, it was a unique aspect of our relationship.

But now, I see it clearly. She enjoyed treating me like a housemaid, just like last night when she ordered me to take care of Terry.

She never saw me as her husband. She claimed I wasn't an outsider, yet she humiliated me in every action.

I couldn't stay in this house any longer.

I packed my things and went back to my pre-marital apartment to catch up on sleep.

Deborah called, furious, "Thomas! Where are you?"

"I'm sleeping. If you need something, ask Terry, and don't bother me," I replied.

Deborah immediately raised her voice, her piercing soprano hurting my eardrums through the phone.

"The house is such a mess. How can you sleep?"

"I'm not sleeping there, so why wouldn't I sleep well?" I replied.

After enduring over a hundred sleepless nights, why should I continue to torture myself?

"Can't you see the mess at home? I can't stand it anymore," she said.

She couldn't stand the mess she made herself and came to question why I wasn't cleaning it. What kind of twisted logic was this?

"Deborah, I owe you nothing, and I owe Terry nothing. I won't clean up someone else's mess," I retorted.

"What do you mean someone else's mess? Do you still want to live together or not?" she said.

Here it came again!

She always used the same tactic. After countless times, I had gone from initial fear and panic to now being indifferent.

"I don't want to. Let's get a divorce!" I said.

My indifferent attitude pushed Deborah into a full-blown rage.

"Thomas, you said it! Don't regret it!" she said.

Why would I regret it? I only regretted not ending this ridiculous marriage sooner.

The absurdity began with this play.

Deborah and I were supposed to be the main characters in this play.

I worked tirelessly on the script until the shoot began, only for Terry to use tricks to steal the lead role.

The second male lead wasn't bad, and I wanted to challenge a villainous role, so I agreed.

As a result, Deborah brought Terry home and made me teach him the lead role scene by scene.

Even the director called, saying time was tight and hoping I could help.

The exchange of the lead role seemed to reflect my real life.